Entry 10
Chak and Davin are gone- Davin, to begin a short-term scouting mission along the border between Ascendancy and Hand space, a respite for his wing after months harassing the Vagaari; Chak, to assume command of his own Imperial fighter wing, a promotion recommended by his Naval superiors and approved here by Admiral Parck. Jagged is due to leave us in less than a month as well.
I never received a satisfactory answer from Davin regarding his argument with father, though I think he was mildly peeved that I did not join in his tirade. Part of his vendetta seems tied to father's decision to let Jagged leave here at so young an age, but there must be something deeper beneath the surface. If father knows, he is remaining typically stoic about it.
Periods of contention aside, my brothers and I managed to resurrect a bit of childhood nostalgia during their visit. Chak unearthed some of our old starfighter models and Davin proceeded to disassemble two of them, use the parts to reconstruct one into the rough shape of a Chiss Clawcraft, and then explain the clear merits of said craft over the old Imperial and Rebel counterparts.
And then he spent the rest of the night fiddling with the old X-wing model that was his favorite as a small boy- as ever, enthralled by the intrigue of heroic stories of the infamous Rogue Squadron.
I caught father looking at our old children's toys the next day, after Davin and Chak had departed. He grinned ruefully as he regarded Davin's approximation of a Clawcraft fighter, but picked up the old TIE and X-wing models as he beckoned me into the room.
"Another example of Imperial ruthlessness," he handed them over to me. "The TIE- faster, more maneuverable…only a select few weighted down by hyperdrives and life-support systems, by shield generators. Do not doubt for an instant that some unscrupulous commanders were more eager to escape an engagement zone quickly, than ensure their surviving pilots made it back aboard. TIE craft and pilots were considered expendable to the utmost."
"Then it's a wonder any would voluntarily pilot them in battle."
It was one of those comments which, after it escaped me, I wondered if father might find some offense in it. He seemed unfazed though. "The challenge is half the allure, for brash young men." He sighed and looked away, staring into the past. "Stories are told of those who survive against the odds, to fight battle after battle. There are never legends about the vast majority of pilots who die by their third engagement."
"Did you prefer X-wings then? When you flew for the New Republic?"
His returning grin was a bit impish. "Maybe, in the heat of the moment- but the thrill, the rush, is wholly different in a TIE. And in the years after the death of the emperor, the Empire did begin to show more consideration towards giving their doomed starfighter pilots the best shot of surviving. The modern models are generally shield-equipped."
I wonder if that's something new he learned on his recent trip to Bastion. That he would so openly discuss his glory-days of piloting is an abrupt change from his normal refusal to humor discussion that might encourage his children to aspire to similar feats of heroism.
Realistically though… he probably just feels bad about the recent household tension with me at the center, yet relatively uninvolved in the fight. Still- it was a novel feeling, that others might concern themselves with my fate… that father may not hold unilateral power over this family forever.
The idea is as appealing as it is frightening.